


Prop Up

by AstaianNymph



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Character Study, Crucifixion, Fix-It of Sorts, HYDRA are dicks but this isn't a trash party, Hydra (Marvel), Mild Aphobia, Multi, Non-Sexual Sadism, Non-religious crucifixion, Past Sexual Assault, Sadism, Sexual Coercion, Torture, background kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstaianNymph/pseuds/AstaianNymph
Summary: Jack knows Brock has made a horrible mistake breaking up with Maria. Before he knows it, he's plotting to get them back together, while simultaneously working his way up in HYDRA.





	Prop Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarsGarters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsGarters/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Knock Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417743) by [StarsGarters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsGarters/pseuds/StarsGarters). 



> This is a direct sequel to StarsGarters's Knock Down. This will make no sense if you don't read that first. Thanks to StarsGarters for their permission to write this, even if I've made a mess of it.
> 
> Note: I changed up the green/yellow/red colour system because Brock is an ass. This is not the standard system.

Jack was a loyal soldier. Moreso than most. But he was also creative, smart, and cunning in a quiet way.

He joined HYDRA to save the world. Well, that and he liked being alive. By the time they approached you, he figured, your two options were join or die.

Not that he was a saint. He loved his job. He loved the violence, and he was pretty sure he was a sadist, not that he particularly cared for labels like that. He was who he was, and he let others decide how to pigeonhole him.

And who he was was a man with no interest in others, at least sexually. He'd never given any thought to romance either, but HYDRA didn't care about the romance bit. He idly thought back to his initiation as he kept watch deep in the jungle somewhere in the borderless depths of the Amazon, Rumlow and the others out cold in their two tents dwarfed by the trees and the darkness.

The initiation was a show of violence and power in some creative way. The purpose was to break the recruit and realign them to know they weren't just joining in, but they were now owned by HYDRA, body, mind and soul. Usually the culmination was some form of sexual dominance to show that HYDRA owned even who they lusted after. Usually it took the form of making someone 'enjoy' sex with someone they found unattractive, again, usually someone of the same gender.

It was just simply that Jack, for all his flaws, was secure enough in who he was to know that just because his dick responded to someone touching him didn't mean he was attracted to them. HYDRA owned his body, his talents, and his overall life direction, but Jack was still his own, in thought and in his core. He would do anything the right people asked of him, but no amount of their —frankly boring—torture could realign him to be sexually desirous of others.

Which is why Pierce hated him. Pierce was not emperor of HYDRA, though he came close, close enough that to others it made no difference. But Jack was different enough others had taken interest in him. He played his cards close to his chest, but others getting to use Jack's talents, playing with Pierce's toy meant Pierce putting him through as much extra humiliation, discomfort, and boredom as he could manage. Which is why, despite all the others who would've loved this assignment, Jack was the one who had been assigned to carefully monitor Rumlow's affair with Hill.

He kicks his watch replacement awake, trading places in the tent, bone tired. He'll need the sleep in case he has to sit with the parabolic mic if Rumlow goes to Hill directly after extraction. He dozes off wondering how exactly he can make this mission interesting. 

–=–=–=–=–=–

Rumlow was in way over his head. Jack knew his CO better than almost anyone. It's why his patron Yves, Pierce’s bureaucratic rival, appreciated him. Pierce would run his toys into the ground, while Yves took good care of Jack and his other supervisees.

Rumlow had been through the same initiation he had. It had it's designed effect on Rumlow, making him question himself, had made Brock insecure in his masculinity. That worked well enough for Pierce, but Jack couldn't help but think that Rumlow would be a more effective agent if HYDRA was a source of immediate reward as well as discipline, as Yves had made it for Jack.

He could see Rumlow breaking down, mind at war with itself, as he awkwardly lay prone in the bright room with the parabolic mic. He was sweaty and gross, having come directly from Rumlow trying to work out his insecurities on him on the mats. He saw the look of contempt flashed at him and Mercer as Rumlow made the room. Jack suppressed a sigh. Mercer was one of Pierce's through and through, and they couldn't let a second go without stroking their egos or exerting their power.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack wouldn't let Pierce have the satisfaction of knowing his orders were uncomfortable. Jack was surprisingly good at the powerplay and politics. He ruefully picked up the intimate photos out of the bank, carefully putting together Pierce's blackmail material. He was emotionless here with Pierce. A statue until Pierce ordered him to jack off onto one set of the photos. He unabashedly reaches down his pants and brings himself out, the physical sensation enough to play this game. He hates that he’s had to learn to do this throughout the years, faking his way through the gross sexual machismo and bravado running through the ranks of STRIKE, both HYDRA and not. He even has a cover story of the perfect woman whom he’d had to shoot after a year’s affair when she wouldn’t join their cause to explain his lack of interest in anyone else. They had just been friends, and it did still pain him that she couldn’t see that they would save the world.

Jack can see Pierce growing hard in his awful pants when Jack's cock twitches and the pressure in his balls releases, pulsing what would be even more shame for Rumlow onto the snapshot of the vulnerable moment. He idly wonders if Pierce will show these to Rumlow or if it was for someone else—perhaps even to shame him—as he tucks himself back in. Pierce narrows his eyes at him, clearly unhappy with Jack’s signature blank look, only slightly disrupted by having to breathe a bit more heavily.

“You think Yves will be impressed by your performance here?” Pierce sneers. “You didn't think he could save you from me, did you?"

Jack blinks stupidly. "I have no intention of being saved, sir." Not that he thought he needed saving. Shit like that was for the insecure.

Pierce smiles like a predator, misinterpreting the statement, mistaking Jack for simple, like most did.

He is dismissed and finally grins to himself in the shower, heady from the adrenaline of politics.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack was disappointed in his CO. Like he's never been disappointed in him before. Maybe if it were any other day, he'd be happy with the fact he'd only had to watch Rumlow a few times with that mic. As it was, he was pulsing with wild energy that was usually reserved for missions. See Jack had no interest in love or sex but Brock was his best friend and Jack was miffed. He'd always had a soft spot for Brock, ever since he'd seen the younger man break at his initiation. He’s so irritated he finds himself stalking to the depths of SHIELD for a talk with Yves. Yves works down in translations, sitting and translating intel all day. Jack speaks Maori, thanks to his mom and grandparents, so he's helped them out before. It's how Yves picked him out as his protégé, not that he expected to survive that long. But he was loyal to HYDRA and Yves was also needed in the organisation as a balance, and Jack would take over the part if he was needed.

"Rollins," came the smirking greeting. Yves was known for being peppy and deviously outgoing without ever oversharing. And the man was a genius: one of the few people who could read Jack like an open book. It was disturbing even after two years. “Did someone drown your favourite puppy?"

Jack took a breath and centred himself, drawing on his training to calm his anger. He can’t be careless and miss some veiled meaning.

"I rather thought my team weren't idiots, but it turns out they turn their brains off when they come in from the field."

"I've heard you say the field doesn't have paperwork."

"That's one of the rewards."

Yves shrugs. "Surely the office has its rewards too."

"Sure, though I'm not convinced the med team is one of them."

That got raised eyebrows. "How is free medical care bad?"

"It's fine as long as it's the only care you know. Turns out Rumlow doesn't know how to deal with a doctor who doesn't poke him with needles all the time. Asshole made a scene and now he's more worried he's sick than when he went in the first place. Idiot."

Yves rolls his eyes, whether at him or Rumlow, Jack has no idea. "Let me guess, you want to give him a test to make sure he's well?"

It's Jack's turn to shrug as he's entranced by the flow of data through the office monitors. "As you've well taught me, loyalty deserves a reward." That was what made Yves better than Pierce. He knew how to push and pull, use the carrot and the stick.

Yves nods. "Here's a snippet of intel I'd like you to look over." He slides a folder to Jack. "When you finish checking the translation, we'll go out for beer and think of how to reward your loyalty."

"I'll see you tonight, sir." Jack lets himself relax as he heads out, sinking into the heady feeling of a mission while leafing through the folder.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Rumlow is a mess. Jack knocks him on his ass for the second time today.

"You're goin' weak, boss," he taunts. 

Rumlow practically growls at him from the mat. "Fuck you."

Jack rolls his eyes. "Whatever you want, boss," he deadpans. He watches the emotions sweep across Brock's face, sees the insecurity there. He reaches a hand down to help his sloppy CO up. "Go get drunk tonight, have fun, and I'll keep Mercer off your back for a bit."

Rumlow narrows his eyes at him, looking for the test. This is HYDRA after all. The layers go deep. He relents after a moment, only marginally more composed.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack likes the bar Yves runs. It's HYDRA, and Yves owns Stella’s like an old-school mafia boss. His olive skin is framed beautifully by the classic masculine décor in a way never seen at the modern, sterile SHIELD, and all the patrons know to give him respect from the way he carries himself. Jack follows him to a secure back room, cozy and comfortable in its low-light and leather seating. Jack loves coming here where they can discuss matters openly and Jack can be the intellectual monster Yves saw and then cultivated and nurtures. They sit and plot, relatively sober in this den of revelry and beautiful chaos. And maybe, if they played their cards right, Rumlow would have his own reward.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Step one had to be to get Maria to take the asshole back. Convince her of his worthiness without giving away HYDRA. That would be the hard part. The second step would be to get Rumlow to actually take the bait. This was the easiest step because Jack could always manhandle him if worse came to worst. Step 3 would be to survive the rivalries in HYDRA.

Step 3 took the most planning as it was the most complicated. Pierce was a master manipulator after all. But those plans would go down the drain if Jack couldn't gain enough of Hill’s trust. It was a test. Everything in HYDRA was a test. Jack would never be the one to meet with senators, but there were other things he could do. He might even start learning about them in depth if he passed this test of Yves's.

So here he is, at 5 o'clock in the morning, working out earlier than he'd ever choose personally. He's stretching, working out his scars when he hears the doors open. Hill spots him and gets this look like she has a headache. She sets her jaw as she approaches.

"Are you here to get your ass handed to you as well?"

He shakes his head. "I don't leave my brain in the field." He stands fluidly and motions her onto the mat. She puts down her bag and follows him, clearly determined to give him a beatdown. He drops to a fighting stance and they spar. Jack is good; Hill is great. She fights like a woman, and Jack's pretty sure anyone else on their team, especially that creep Ramirez, would be down by now. The fight is no walk in the park for either of them. She gives him a fair run for his money, but unfortunately for her, Jack was used to being one of the biggest, fighting smaller foes. And he was sharp, not sloppy. It's close, but he manages to pin her. It's not pretty, but it's effective.

She taps out and he offers her a hand up. She's a good agent, whether or not she's HYDRA. She's SHIELD, and they're the same now, simply with two security clearance tracks. That was the price they paid for saving the world.

 

Hill studies Rollins. The man isn't as stupid as he looks. That's not how SHIELD agents got made, nor how one rose to the top levels of STRIKE. And to boot, he was competent. She wasn't even disappointed she'd gone down. Well, she was a little bit, but nothing her ego couldn't handle.

"So what's this visit about?" She's not sure how much this man even knows about her.

He smiles politely. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Why don't we go get some breakfast?"

She measures him with a flat stare and Jack's smile breaks into something more wild.

"Fine. I have a mission to staff. I need more than just STRIKE. I need subtle, competent, and someone else with administrative capabilities." He cocks an eyebrow, challenging her.

Hill is intrigued. She's never lamented her dearth of fieldwork, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't down for a bit of dirty work now and again. It was a decent way to keep up with her training in a less rote way as well.

"You're buying.”

–=–=–=–=–=–

She ushers Jack out into the empty dawn. The good news is that they didn't have a tail. Bad news is he doesn't know how bugged the little deli they end up in might be. They sell bagels this early and clearly cater to SHIELD employees.

He pays while she brings their coffee and bagels to a table where she sits in a way to force his vulnerability. He sits and breathes in the scent of the coffee, then drinks the scalding liquid.

He slides her Yves's folder. "Level six, but need-to-know only." Not all of the folder was translated. What was translated contained most of a mission briefing—the part he would be privilege to under normal circumstances. Most people read him as white, and he wasn't exactly an open book, so he was pretty confident she wouldn't know he could read the Maori.

"Our translators picked up messages from the mountains of New Zealand. We have few knowns here."

He lets her read as they eat in silence. The messages are legit. There's hints of a new drug, but it's not clear if it's cultural knowledge or synthetic in origin. What they did know is that it seemed there was a new evil organisation which had popped up. What Jack hadn't translated was that it was a small cell testing out something Pierce cared a lot about. He wanted to find out what.

Hill seems intrigued as she studies all the scant documentation. "This says it's an evaluation." She points to a line.

Jack nods. "STRIKE won't know who their instructions are from. They know they're evaluated regularly, and I need someone who isn't sloppy, with this mission as vague as it is."

Jack's well aware Hill is studying him. He's not lying. The best lies are the truth. She seems satisfied enough for the present with whatever she sees in his eyes.

They sit quietly for a moment, the tension lessened as they finish their bagels. Jack waits. He's not sure how quiet Hill is, but he doesn't want to seem eager, and besides, he's used to waiting. Hell, he half wishes this weren't so fun. It would be less dangerous that way.

Hill finishes her coffee and plays idly with the cup. "Tell me one thing—and it better be the truth—why are **you** setting up this op?"

There are several ways to answer this, and he's sure which one he chooses will make or break his plan. He shrugs. "I'm not. Officially, I don't know any of this." He motions at the folder. "I get an assignment every so often to evaluate the team. I choose someone and report back. We go on the mission. We debrief separately, I get to write a boring-ass report. I'm pretty sure this happens with other senior agent every so often too." And it did. He'd traded with Ramirez to choose the evaluator this time around. With SHIELD, he'd honestly have been more surprised had there been no secret evaluations.

He raises an eyebrow, a thought worming its way to the surface. "I'm surprised you've never been part of one before, ma'am."

Hill grins at him, her façade breaking. "I've never been invited onto a STRIKE eval before. You'll have to brief me."

They make their way back to the Triskelion, talking details the whole way. Jack decides he likes Hill too. This plan must work out.

–=–=–=–=–=–

His plan would never work out if Rumlow got himself killed. Jack cleans his gun scowling as Rumlow patches himself up while the others are eating standard field rations.

"You got a deathwish?" he growls at his CO.

"Yea, well if you could help me bandage up." Rumlow fights with his bandages.

Jack subtly checks that the comms are still on. "Well, if you weren't wallowing about whatever went wrong with Hill, you might notice when you're walking your men into a trap."

Thankfully the comms stay quiet.

"She made me weak."

Jack snorts. "Didn't realise happiness made a man weak."

"She made me ruin my priorities."

"Like what? The fact that you're an elite secret agent? I think she'd understand your goddamn job."

"It's none of your fucking business."

"It's my business when my CO might be fucking compromised!"

"You wouldn't understand, you've never fallen in love! You're broken—not even capable." Jack would love to frame that; it was as close to an admission of love as Brock would give.

Instead he puts his gun down and stalks over to his CO and slaps him across the face.

"Don't you dare call me broken, Brock," he says in a pointed tone.

Brock tells himself he revels in the pain, that it brings order to him. But he feels the sting of his friend's hurt more. He looks ready to spit, but instead he slumps.

"Fuck you too," he says, but it has no heat.

Jack picks up a bandage and helps him out. "Apology accepted."

–=–=–=–=–=–

Brock shapes up after that. They manage to uncover a drug sample that someone has been using on the native population. Then it's Jack's turn to get pissed. He manages to get to the doctor leading the experiments before he can deploy his cyanide capsule and rips it out.

Jack lets Brock question him while they raid the facility for any information. They caught the base with just a skeleton crew with the rest of the people out prepping for a visit by some bigwigs. Jack miles a nasty smile and when their mics are off, asks to take care of him. 

Brock assents, "He tried running and had to be shot."

"Oh, he'll wish he'd been shot."

 

Jack brings the man out to the trees surrounding the camp, with Rumlow carrying the requested supplies, looking confused.

"Hold him against that tree," he points to a nice nigh-branchless tree which will be nice and visible to the incoming envoy. "Make sure his feet don't touch the ground."

Rumlow does so, hoisting the man who tries to flail, but his wrists are tied together and to his waist. He yells through the makeshift gag as if help would come. Jack gets out a knife and slices the man's hands free from his waist but not each other. He grabs the wrists and ties them above his head as tightly as he can manage, too tightly. Next, he ties the man's ankles to the tree in the same manner, so he can't kick, again too tight. Finally he ties the man's waist so Brock won't have to hold him.

"Now comes the fun part."

Brock sees the tied man blanch. He, too, is curious about what Jack means. Rollins is rifling about in the pack he brought.

"You know what I'm going to do to you?" The man shakes his head, terrified by the wild look in Rollins's eyes. Jack takes out the tent stakes and a hammer.

"I'm going to crucify you," he says with primal glee.

Brock lets out a low whistle. He knows Rollins has a violent streak, but that is a different level altogether.

Jack hammers one of the stakes through the man's hands, revelling in his sweet screams. He was pretty sure that the ropes would do the job of crucifixion on their own, but plain ropes just didn't look as impressive. Plus, the scent and colour of blood just added to the scene.

Jack drives the second tent spike into the man's feet, going right through the heels. Then he gets out a knife. He leans in close to the man, who looks at him with adrenaline and pain-addled eyes. 

“Part of making this accurate is that you don’t get to wear clothes.” 

He starts slicing off the man’s outfit, letting it pool by his feet. 

Rumlow feels an uncomfortable surge of arousal when the knife slices through the shirt and focuses instead on the man’s now-mangled extremities.

“This doesn’t even do anything for me, not like your blood. But knowing it humiliates you, that’s reason enough for me.”

He grins at his handiwork when done. He steps back, licking his lips as if examining an erotic painting, Brock thinks. He hushes the whisper that says it might be fun to be on the receiving side of Jack’s sadism.

"You know the best part?" Jack asks him, while watching the screaming man.

"I'm sure you'll tell us," Brock replies, amused at Jack's ferocity.

"He won't die quickly. He'll slowly lose blood, dehydrate, and find it harder and harder to breathe. He'll only die when he's too weak to hold himself up any longer, and only then after an extremely painful asphyxiation." He shakes his head. "I'm only sorry I probably won't be here to watch all of it."

He goes to the man and looks him in the eyes, barely lucid. "This is what you get for preying on my people."

Jack turns back and stands next to Rumlow. He lights a cig to enjoy both his vices at once. He gestures at the beautiful picture of the future dead man. "See, I did this because I'm petty. I want my people to be safe. I'm even torture-killing a man to do it. Do you have any doubts of my loyalty?"  He lets the second question hang unasked in the air like the smoke and the screams. _Do you trust me to have your back?_

Brock considers the scene, arms crossed. "No question. There's no-one I'd rather have my six."

Jack smirks. "You're so sentimental.

"They lie you know. Pierce at least. Not everything is a test. Every so often, you get a reward. I get this. You could have your sappy shit with Hill."

"There's no way she'd take me back."

Jack takes a long drag, savouring the flavour. "But if there were?"

Brock doesn't know exactly what to say. He shrugs, not wanting to admit the leaps his heart was doing at the thought.

Jack chuckles. "You're like an open book. Tell you what, because you helped me out here, I'll see what I can do."

Brock has nothing else to say. "Hail HYDRA."

"Hail HYDRA."

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack is very happy the man hasn't died before they leave the next morning, although he is in bad shape. He breaks the man's legs to induce another round of screams before they head out to the extraction point, content in the knowledge the man won't last long.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack will have to do some explaining for his off-mic escapade and for the screaming. Jack wishes more people could understand why HYDRA was necessary. Not that he blamed them. Not that that made everything easy. Jack loathed paperwork and the extra debriefing time he had to put in. He understood the need. He just wished it weren't necessary.

He studies his team as they stow their gear, resettling things as they would need them for the next sudden mission. He's proud of their work and their cohesion. He's not sure how things will work going forward, if his plans would breed success or fall apart around him, but he was sure the STRIKE team would be very different when the dust finally settled. The feeling is surprisingly exhilarating, and it gives him a renewed wave of energy as they head off to the team debrief. He sits back, as is his wont and lets the others do as much of the talking as they can get right. He has to step in a bit more than usual, as it turns out Rumlow's head is in the clouds. He hopes it's because he's internalising Jack's lesson, because Jack is working hard to put this together for him.

He pretends to not notice the crystal ashtray there for important execs, pretend he wasn't tempted. With luck, with patience, with skill, he'll have his opportunity soon enough.

–=–=–=–=–=–

He turns down Brock's offer to spar afterward, but promises him a drink later.

He slips into the private room confidently. Hill is already waiting for him with her trademark indecipherable expression firmly in place. She'd clearly been watching their debrief before. He thinks of Yves watching this debrief and idly wonders how many exhibitionists SHIELD has, or rather if it was more an organisation of voyeurs. He sits, not caring either way, ready for business.

"How'd we do?"

"You passed. Somehow the team that's had years of successful ops is still functioning well."

He smiles at her dry sarcasm. “But."

She purses her lips slightly. "Too much time off comms."

He rolls his eyes like he wasn't specifically counting on this type of question to lead to the right outcome in his plan. "I wasn't lying in there."

She gives him a look that would make lesser men wet themselves.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he mutters. He steadies himself mentally. "Rumlow was getting all emotional and weepy. There's nothing like a mission in terms of intimacy of a sort, and he gets uninhibited like he's had a few. He told me what's been going on, or rather what went on with you two."

He chews the inside of his cheek, a slight giveaway of emotion.

Hill's expression has turned slightly sour. Jack worries about this plan for the first time. He pushes on.

"He talked about how alive you made him feel, how _real_.

"He said he freaked out at first because he didn't know what to do. I don't think he's had a gentle person in his life. Aside from me, of course."

He smirks at his own joke. It was mostly true. Jack was fairly gentle outside his sadistic streak.

"Then he couldn't even look at me. He said he was afraid of disappointing you, of having to choose between the job and a life with you. I don't think he realised how enamoured he sounded.”

This half-lie feels raw to Jack, and he gives in and lights up, to Hill's displeasing look.

"Look," he sighs, "this ain't how I hoped it'd go. The man is eternally stupid when it comes to emotions. I mean, I'm not that touchy-feely, but I don't run away from hugs between friends.

"What I'm saying is that Rumlow came from a home where his father beat him, but he still thinks his father was somehow the ideal man. He thinks he only got hurt because he was broken. And don't get me wrong, Brock is an idiot when it comes to feelings, but he's my best friend and I want the best for him."

He takes a long drag.

“And it’s hard for him to open up to _me_ , so you'll excuse me if I was reticent to open up about the details of that conversation."

They have a pseudo-staring contest. Hill's face softens slightly. "I didn't know you knew the word reticent."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"Just tell me one thing, completely honestly: How much of this did you know before you asked me on to evaluate?"

All of it. "None of it. Or, well, I thought Brock was fine. I thought he and you had a 2-night stand or something and that was that."

 

Maria wanted to murder Rumlow. Murder him and then fuck him senseless. Just because she didn't want to date him didn't mean she was completely heartless. She wouldn't be working for SHIELD if she were. She's surprised at how vulnerable Rollins looks, the big man using a cigarette as a defensive mechanism.

"Thank you for being honest with me. I can assure you, it won't go in the report."

Rollins nods in thanks.

"This concludes our briefing. You're free to go." She closes the file with her notes. "But, if you'll indulge me, I think we could both use a beer."

Jack takes that for the invitation and peace treaty it is. "Sure thing," 

He nods and gets up.

"Don't worry, Hill. I won't tell any of the men that you have feelings," he jokes.

Hill cracks a smile. "Call me Maria."

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack isn't a lightweight, but he does enjoy the feeling of freedom that drinking allows him. Hill unloads on him about how stupid Brock can be. Jack isn't at all disinclined to disagree with her. They talk late into the night.

"I'm not sure I want to give the bastard a second chance."

It takes him aback, but he's not really surprised either. He frowns.

"It sounds like you need to talk things out together. Using big boy words even, in Brock's case."

Maria considers Rollins. The man clearly has good intentions, but it's hard to get over the pain Brock had caused her. However if he was really just afraid and insecure, Maria thought she could maybe handle that. She sure as heck would prefer to dominate someone from SHIELD who would understand what was going on with her job and all the secrecy. Alas, she wasn't going to give ground without reason. Pouting wasn't a great reason. She's heartened by Jack's suggestion, though it seems oddly naïve coming from him.

"One meeting. No guarantees."

He perks up a bit and nods.

"You're reasonable, and I like that." He's being sentimental, he knows. "I'd punch him for you if I thought it would do anything."

Hill laughs at that and orders another beer.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack was not a fan of paperwork. He's pretty sure nobody loves paperwork. But today was worse than normal because he was so distracted with other things. And he had a memo on his desk that someone he only vaguely knew was under suspicion for treason, which was a distraction he really, really didn’t need right now.

He thanked his lucky stars it wasn't Brock. He prayed he would never have to deal with Brock for treason, and he suspected he wouldn't have to—it would never come up. Nevertheless, he would hate to lose a good friend, even if he was blind when it came to HYDRA politics and his dick—

A knock on his door startles him out of his reverie. He looks up to find Rumlow giving him a look tinged with something Jack can't quite read.

"What?" He demands, voice rough.

"I just got back from a meeting with Pierce," he replies gleefully.

"Your poker face is shit." He gestures with his chin. "Sit or get out."

Rumlow saunters in and closes the door before sitting and putting his feet up on his desk. "So whaddya got there?"

Jack sighs. "Paperwork. Why don't you have paperwork? Or are you actually going to tell me what's made you all weird from your meeting with Pierce?"

The bastard grins at him. "You've been holding out on me, you motherfucker."

Jack just looks at him, a confused expression on his face.

"Pierce is pissed. I don't know what you're up to, but he warned me if I don't quote-unquote 'get you in line', he said he might have to order me to kill you. I haven't seen him this pissed off since the King of Wakanda turned down his offer."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "And why do exactly do you think I have anything to do with this?"

"Don't play coy," he said, and Jack made a mental note to tell Brock he should work on looking less like an evil villain monologuing.

"That drug was top-secret, cutting edge HYDRA R&D. Not only did you sabotage it by putting it into public–well for SHIELD, anyway–evidence, you gave it to a tech out of Pierce's direct control. He'd have to call in favours from another cell. But that's not why he's really pissed. That doctor you killed was the only one who really understood the drug."

Jack feels a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

"He was the genius behind it. You said killing him was a reward, but Pierce would have you dead already, unless you're not under his control."

He gives Jack a look. "But apparently you're out of his jurisdiction in a way that has consequences for him."

Rumlow studies him intently. Jack's not sure what he's looking for, not sure what he'll find.

His tone takes a turn for the serious. “If you were anyone else, I might consider shooting you anyway. I don't do well with my men taking orders from someone else."

Jack's quiet for a moment, thinking before he plunges forward.

"I was cross-recruited a couple years ago. Throughout, I've been under strict orders to continue with you as my immediate CO and cell leader. I was approached after I figured out the upper-level politics were more complex than I'd been led to believe. HYDRA has my loyalty through and through. But now I find my skills are being used better."

He shrugs, looking at Rumlow, trying to see what he was thinking.

"You're a right bastard you are. You had all this going on for years and I didn't know what was happening you son of a bitch."

He sneers. "At least I'm not unreasonable by breaking up with someone I love for someone I'm afraid of."

Brock stands like he's been set on fire. "I thought Mercer was my tail." _I thought you were my friend_ went unsaid.

"She was babysitting me at the same time. You know Pierce doesn't like not having absolute control. If it makes you feel better, he didn't get transcripts or anything."

Brock looks like he's had something bitter. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust you, Jack?"

Jack sighs. "I'm no different now than I ever was; you just know more about me now. I've been doing this for years and all it's gotten me is a better life. You saw it yourself—Pierce can't touch me just because he doesn't like me."

He reminds himself not to monologue too much. But when Brock doesn't say anything, he starts back up.

"I'll tell you a secret, Rum. I knew the base was Pierce's."

Brock looks at him, face carefully neutral, and Jack stands. "I'm being groomed as an officer for HYDRA." 

He snorts. "Can you even believe that? I know I didn't at first. But I am, which means I get extra intel and I knew something was going on there. I gave the go-ahead to my supervisor because he trusts me. He lets me make my own decisions. I reap the consequences, but I also get rewards. Most of all, I belong to me. I mean, my life is pledged to HYDRA and the greater good, sure, but I'm still my own person. I still get nice things. Like friends. I like to think we're friends."

The air feels thick in the office. Rumlow sighs and deflates. "I would like to feel like I have friends again," he admits.

Jack smiles. "I can promise your talents will be put to good use if you switch or report dual. We don't use our valuable men: we discuss things first."

Brock looks at him dead on. "I'll agree to a discussion."

Jack cracks a smile.

"Okay, but first you have to pass my test."

Rumlow doesn't like the look of that grin. "What's the catch?"

"You'll see when we get there. Meet me at 9 o'clock sharp at Stella's. Think about how far honesty can go. And you should be sober for your test."

Brock nods and leaves. He really needed time to steel himself. Honesty was hard. But he was tired of being Pierce's sex toy, and he wanted to feel alive again.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Later that evening, Brock finds his way to the bar. Rollins greets him with a hug and walks him through the crowd, past the bodyguards, to the back. He's impressed with how easily the man slices through the place like he owns it. They turn into what turns out to be a conference room filled with leather and wood and **her**. He freezes and feels Jack's hand stopping his instinct to run.

"You didn't tell him what this was," Hill accuses Jack, who shrugs and pushes Rumlow into a chair.

"I told him it was a test and he should think about being honest. I don't know what else I would've been referring to."

Brock just blinks for a moment at how natural Jack sounded. He swallows and nods.

"I didn't want to think, after what I did..." He trails off.

"Well, let's sit and talk," Jack suggests, seating himself about halfway between the two of them. It's awkward silence for a moment.

Brock's heart had been pounding so loud since he’d seen _her_ he could barely think. She was every bit as amazing and beautiful as he remembered. And this was Jack's test. What had he said? Honesty. Brock could barely remember honesty. But he remembers how to face danger.

"Everything I said that morning was I lie!" he blurts out, finding some courage within himself. "And you didn't deserve it. I was afraid of getting close, of having someone get to you through me. Or divulging work secrets that I just _can't_. And you were right, I'm a coward when it comes to the people above me." The last words are dry and come out almost as a whisper.

Hill's face doesn't change, but Jack thinks he caught a flash of something in her eyes.

"Thank you for being honest, Brock," Jack says. He turns to Maria, expectantly.

Hill looks as severe as she does when she's on the shooting range.

"Had you ever done anything like that before?"

"No," Brock answers and looks away, a sense of shame starting to burn on his face.

Hill nods as if that says something to her.

"'You bring out everything in me that I hate,'" she quotes.

Brock flinches.

"Tell me what that means, meant; was it a lie too?"

Brock shivers, suddenly chilled to his core. "I don't know—if it's all a lie, I mean." His thoughts are still spinning. "I felt weak and vulnerable and so much less than. And I needed to be hurt. All I wanted was the pain and punishment I deserved. Because we can't form close ties in this business. It's not allowed."

Hill sees Rollins roll his eyes and stifles a smile.

"I would never ask you to divulge any of your work. I'm not going to ruin things like that. And I find some people need time and permission to be vulnerable. It's not weakness to set aside a safe space for feeling that vulnerability. I like creating that safe space for people."

"But you're too nice!" he exclaims, confused. "You only hurt me once. And order comes through pain."

"You STRIKE boys always say that, but that's an in-the-field thing. You can't spend your whole life in pain, or you'll never be able to function. You'll be no good to your team if you can't function."

Jack nods in agreement. "People in our organisation, our line of work are trying to save the world. What if you can do that better by letting yourself be vulnerable from time to time? I mean the team can get emotional in safehouses because we can vent there safely." Except Brock doesn't do that. He can't, being the team leader.

Hill nods. "That's a good metaphor."

Brock is torn. Honesty. Safety. Order. Pain. Pleasure. These form conflicting ropes on his brain. But if he could just relieve the pressure for awhile.

"I want what we did before again," he admits softly. "I want to be worth your time. How? How do I earn that from you?"

Maria closes her own eyes, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability. She was moved that this was the softest she'd seen Brock outside of when she'd brought him down.

"I don't know. You hurt me pretty damn bad."

Brock's heart sinks, but he finds his next words surprisingly sincere. "I understand. I think this is the worst I've ever fucked up, and I know some things can never change."

 

Maria nods, still unsure where she wants to go from here. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate that you’re able to admit that.”

She holds up a finger, needing a moment to think. She’s glad the two men sitting at her table respect that.

“Okay. I think that we need to start a bit from the beginning. Properly, this time, even though it was fun, to, ah, take you down.”

Rollins fidgets a bit, whether uncomfortable being in the room for an intimate conversation or perhaps for another reason—his comment on the comms, ‘Don't you dare call me broken’—perhaps gave something deep away. Either way, it’s no surprise when he offers to step out for a moment.

“Maybe it’s a good idea to have a third party make sure we’re being relatively reasonable,” she suggests.

Rumlow nods in agreement.

Rollins nods curtly. “Carry on, then.” He fishes out his lighter and plays with it as they talk.

Maria looks back at Rumlow. Now that Rollins isn’t looking she feels a bit more comfortable with being a bit vulnerable.

“I was thinking we could start with expectations. I said I wasn’t going to date you, and that’s still true. What I want is more like friends with benefits. The benefits being I get to boss you around, you get to be bossed around, and maybe we even fuck sometimes.”

 

Brock is not used to dealing with his feelings. He’s not even sure how people know what they’re feeling, especially at times like this. But Hill is patient and he figures something out.

“I want what we were doing so bad, it feels stupid. I’m afraid I’m going to want more and more, though. I– I don’t know if that’s the case. Honest. But I do know it’s too late to stop feelings getting involved. It’s been intense, and that’s all I know.”

 

Maria nods. “Well, I’m not just interested in you as some automaton, so that’s a point in your favour. Emotions always get involved in these things, but the level of involvement, well, we have time to figure it out.

“I mean, it’s supposed to be intense. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be any fun.”

Rumlow smiles a genuine, soft smile, the type she’s only seen when they’ve been deep into a scene before. This might just work out well after all.

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack ignores most of their negotiations, only tuning in every so often to make sure they’re still playing nice.

“...You can always ask to be hurt if you want the pain.”

“I’m not sure if that’s what I want or if that’s how STRIKE trained me,” he says reluctantly, grimacing.

“Well, we can play it by ear. Start out without it, and build up to it. We can start with punishments that aren’t pain, too...”

 

 

“... not sure about sex? You know I get off on... this.”

“Yes. And I find that invigorating....”

 

 

“...curtains? I just feel like anyone from any of those buildings could look in.”

“Like on the mat, interupting my training time?”

“It was ass o-clock in the morning!”

“Your ass o’clock...”

 

 

“...need to trust each other to say stop when it gets too much?”

“You didn’t say your safeword when it was too much.”

“But I could take it.”

“I’m not judging you on what you can take. I’d prefer you were honest.”

“I can try. But I get pushed too far in the field all the time. I don’t think I can judge that too well.”

“Well I can train you—oh you like the idea of being trained...”

 

 

It’s well over an hour before Jack hears them fall into companionable silence and looks up from his plotting. He likes what he sees. They both look like they came from a boardroom where they had a productive business meeting. 

“Well?”

Brock looks to Maria who nods. “We’ll be starting slowly.”

“I’m happy you two could hash something out.”

They both nod, and it almost makes Jack laugh for how in-sync they are and how tired he is.

“Then if that’s all settled, I have a bed calling my name.”

–=–=–=–=–=–

Not that she needed it, but Maria thought it was good fun to have Jack willing to spill the beans on Brock and confirm her suspicions about his likes and dislikes. She dresses in her favourite blue silk bra and the matching boyshorts that go along with it. She wears a loose lace robe on top of that, and throws a bathrobe on to keep some of her modesty. There’s a knock on her door two minutes before Brock is due in, and she smiles when she sees him on her CCTV. She opens the door to a bashful-looking man.

“Ma’am,” he says, as if saluting.

“How do you answer when I ask to check in?”

He spots the lace and blushes. “Green for I want more. Yellow for I’m not sure. Red for if I can take it but I don’t want to. Butterscotch if I can’t take it.”

She opens the door wide for him. “Good boy.”

–=–=–=–=–=–

Jack wasn’t one for rituals. But this one meant something. As it was explained to him, everyone above a certain level had to go through it. Even though HYDRA ordinarily demanded loyalty, this was something more, another level. He appreciated the level of the organisation had gone to in order to ensure that it kept going, kept working towards world peace. He felt a warmth rise in him. He could feel pride in this much, at least. 

There was a ring of leaders. Seven in total. Their faces were in shadows. They were all wearing suits, which was somehow unnerving. It was all a test. He had been ordered to blindfold himself so he couldn’t see and inject himself with a short-term tranquiliser. If it had been anyone other than Yves giving the orders, he might have killed them.

Yves’s voice rings out clearly, and Jack thinks the room must be fairlysmall based on the sound.

“We have here one who might carry our traditions forth.”

A voice he didn’t know replied. “Let us test his dedication.”

A third voice, “Approach.”

He walked forward. The spotlight was only about fifteen feet in front of him. He knelt in the middle as previously instructed.

Pierce speaks, but Jack doesn’t give away he notices. “What does everybody know about the Hydra?”

“When one head is cut off, two more take its place.”

Yves speaks, “He will be one of my heads, if he is loyal.”

“Then let us test him.”

“We have but one question,” Pierce intones gravely. “What is your name?”

“I have no name other than that which HYDRA gives me.” Jack’s words come out more confidently than how he feels. He was prepared for this part of the procedure. He knew what words he needed to say. And still the thought of having his name torn from him made his heart pound.

There is a moment of silence. “What name have people been using for you?”

“They have been calling me Jack Rollins.”

“You will let the world continue to labour under the lie that you have a name,” a woman says. “But know now that you are nameless—

“And the nameless ones will save them from themselves.”

“Hail HYDRA,” says Jack.

“Hail HYDRA,” they all say back, in unison.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I apparently can't write heterosexual kink.
> 
> Also this is currently longer than my MA paper....


End file.
